Two Weeks Notice
by WriterMuseoftheNight
Summary: Raoul is eager to wed her to throw their past at the Opera behind them, but Christine is reluctant to give up everything she's known...Please R&R you may be surprised.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Meg Giry searched for Christine all over the DeChagny Chateau; she learned plenty by eavesdropping on Raoul (though when she told Christine she'd leave that part out) about the wedding, particularly something that Christine would be upset that Raoul would do without her.

"Christine? Hey, do you want to---" Meg Giry paused as she saw her friend crying, "Chris, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's nothing." Christine said rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Don't lie, your eyes are bloodshot, your face is a mess, and that tissue is just about shredded to bits." Meg said.

Christine turned away sobbing harder when she heard Meg mention the words "mess" and "face." This made Meg feel terrible about the tone she had used with her friend.

"Christine, it'll be all right, please, tell me what's upset you." She asked again as she began rubbing soothing circles on Christine's back.

Christine slowly started to calm down.

"Just think of your wedding, it will be the event of the season." Meg encouraged.

Christine Daae inwardly shook her head. Her wedding to Raoul would be the grandest event Paris would ever remember, certainly even withholding the events that occurred at the Opera Populaire, but every time she heard the wedding mentioned her thoughts would steadily drift elsewhere.

**Flashback**

_Raoul hung from the infamous Punjab lasso, one which **he** held controlling Raoul's existence. **He** looked at her with such great rage, but his gaze also held such great pain. _

_**He **turned his fiery gaze on Raoul then returned it to her again, she tripped as she tried to back away from him, **he** raised his hand to backhand her, she assumed._

"_You try my patience," _

_She waited with baited breath for the blow that never came._

"_Make your choice!"_

_She would not allow **him **to kill for her sake, never again._

_Slowly she rose, approached him, and sorrowfully sang:_

"_Pitiful creature of darkness, What kind of life have you known? God, give me courage to show you, you are not alone!"_

_She kissed him; right there in the wedding dress **he **had designed especially for her, she kissed him. It was like nothing that she had ever experienced while kissing Raoul, the frisson between them was passionate yet still held gentleness to it. As they parted she knew, she just knew. Yet he still sent her away with Raoul._

_Meg had been among the mob and retrieved the Phantom's mask for Christine before it was destroyed._

_Madame Giry told her that she and Raoul were the last people to have seen him, the notorious Phantom of the Opera._

**End Flashback**

"What was it that you wanted to tell me, Meg?"

"It's about the wedding, oh, Christine, I raced across to this wing to tell you that Raoul has decided to move the wedding date up…to two weeks from today."

"WHAT!"


	2. Wedding Proposition

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Erik, Christine, or any other characters mentioned. All I own is the plot. Songs owned by ALW.**

Chapter 1

Christine couldn't believe it, but then again she wouldn't put anything past Raoul, especially since when she first set foot in the DeChagny Chateau she had not been able to do anything for herself. An order she found out Raoul had given the servants.

"Raoul! Raoul DeChagny, where are you! I need to speak with you NOW!" Christine called at the top of her lungs.

"Mademoiselle, he's busy right now I can tell him to talk to you when he is finished." A female servant responded.

"He'd better talk to me immediately or this engagement is over! I'm through with this, Marie!" Christine said angrily.

"Can I prepare you some breakfast, Mademoiselle, perhaps some toast with those strawberry preserves you seem to favor so much?"

"No, that's the other thing, when did I become a paraplegic? Last time I checked, I still have two hands with which I can prepare my own breakfast."

Neither of the women saw Raoul enter the hallway and quietly listen in.

"I'm sorry, Mademoiselle, forgive me for having offended you." Marie responded.

"No apologies are necessary, Marie, Little Lotte needs to learn her place as the Vicomtess DeChagny, which does not in any way involve preparing her own meals. Go prepare that toast and those delightful strawberry preserves you spoke of. We shall take breakfast in my study." Raoul said from the doorway of his study, startling both Christine and Marie.

Marie bowed and left to prepare the ordered breakfast for the couple. Meanwhile, Raoul placed a hand on Christine's shoulder and steered her toward his study. Once inside, Christine swatted his hand away and sat on the couch.

"I really would like you to stop calling me Little Lotte, Raoul, for I haven't been Little Lotte for quite awhile." Christine said, thinking that she hadn't been so since going to study in the ballet dormitories under Madame Giry.

Raoul ignored her comment, "What was it you wanted to speak with me _so civilly_ about, Lotte, so much so that you resorted to frightening Marie?"

"The wedding," Christine said holding up her left hand with the gleaming engagement ring for emphasis.

"Ah, yes, I almost forgot," He grabbed quite a lot of money, by Christine's standard, off his desk and handed it to her, "for your wedding dress."

"Raoul, this is too much I assure you I am able to find a dress for a lot less. Why did you not tell me that you had decided to move the wedding date up? As I had remembered it, you had said we were going to make important decisions such as this together as a couple."

"Well, I'd thought that you would want to have a clean beginning as soon as you could so you could forget everything about the life you knew before…"

Christine, however, heard something else.

_She was under the Opera Populaire, her first time there, actually. She watched in awe as **he** swept off his cloak and began to serenade her._

"_I have brought you to the seat of sweet music's throne ...To this kingdom where all must pay homage to music ...Music ...You have come here for one purpose and one alone ...Since the moment I first heard you sing, I have needed you with me to serve me, to sing for my music ...my music ..."_

_**He** then approached her, his gait graceful, poised as he continued to sing. _

"_Night-time sharpens, heightens each sensation ...Darkness stirs and wakes imagination ...Silently the senses abandon their defenses ...Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendour ...Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender ...Turn your face away from the garish light of day, turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light and listen to the music of the night ..."_

_She could feel the darkness of his music encircle her as **he **came closer, all thoughts of Raoul and the Opera vanished from her head as she was swept into the musical darkness._

"_Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams! Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before! Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar! And you'll live as you've never lived before ..."_

_She closed her eyes as the music continued to encircle her, imagining the life this music and **he **could bringher. Such passion she'd never known before._

"_Softly, deftly, music shall caress you ...Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you. Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind, in this darkness which you know you cannot fight --the darkness of the music of the night ...Let your mind start a journey through a strange, new world! Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before! Let your soul take you where you long to be! Only then can you belong to me ..."_

_Right then that was all she wanted, to belong to him completely as **he** finally came to stand in front of her, as **he** grabbed her, as **he** spun her around, as **he **sang into her ear. _

"_Floating, falling, sweet intoxication! Touch me, trust me, savour each sensation! Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in to the power of the music that I write --  
the power of the music of the night ..."_

_Guided by **him**, she gently caressed his milk white mask savouring its cool porcelain smoothness. Yet **he** would not allow her hand to linger on his mask for long. Which was fine by her since all she wanted was to stay there in his arms, surrounded by his scent…everything went black after that, but she did remember the end of his song. _

"_You alone can make my song take flight -help me make the music of the night ..."_

"Lotte, Lotte, Christine!" Raoul snapped his fingers in front of her eyes.

Christine shook off the memory even though she felt a strange sense of comfort in remembering it, "I apologize, Raoul, what were you saying?"

"Where did you go, L—Christine? You had this glazed look in your eye."

"Nowhere, Raoul, nowhere." Christine sighed, as the odd sense of comfort she had felt left her.

"You weren't thinking of **him**, were you? You really need to forget what happened. For the sake of everyone, especially me. Please, focus on our future together, Lotte, please." Raoul didn't like to beg, but he felt he had to just this once because that look was reminiscent of another look, one he tried to forget.

"For heaven's sake, Raoul, I wasn't thinking of **him**. I'd just been picturing the wedding…" Christine lied.

She felt dreadful about lying to Raoul, but at the same time she knew Raoul would react badly if she told him. Would her thoughts ever be free of both **he** and Raoul?

"May I take leave of you now, Raoul, I'd like to catch Meg before she leaves, I promised her that she could come with me to pick out the wedding dress."

"What about bre—never mind, go. Be sure it is the most elegant dress there is."

"I will." Christine said, although she knew that the most elegant dress for her was destroyed by water.

Once Christine had left, Raoul summoned a servant and ordered, "Fetch me Madame Giry."

Once Madame Giry arrived, Raoul sighed and asked her, "Do you know what troubles Christine?"

"I do not, Raoul." Madame Giry replied.

"Could you ask her? Maybe she'll open up to you."

"I highly doubt that, Raoul, if she will not tell Meg, then she surely will not tell me. But I might know someone she would tell. Can I ask him to talk to her, then I'll be able to tell you what's troubling her. This wedding has to come to fruition in two weeks, for all our sakes, especially hers."

A/N: Please review! Constructive criticism accepted gratefully! No flames!


	3. Intervention

A/N: Please review! Constructive criticism accepted gratefully! No flames!

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Erik, Christine, or any other characters mentioned. All I own is the plot. Songs owned by ALW.**

Chapter 2

The next day, Madame Giry hurriedly made her way to a small church near the Opera house, and rapped her knuckles against the door. An elderly lanky man, the pastor of the little parish, answered it, and when he saw who it was he could barely contain his surprise.

"Antoinette Giry! It's been such a long time since I last saw you. How are Meg and Christine? Antoinette, why so solemn? Surely, it can't be _he,_ not again."

"Father Pierre, I'm so sorry we haven't come in a while, it's just that we've been busy with the disaster at the Populaire and Christine's coming weddi—"

"Ah, I saw the Vicomte just the other day, such a splendid fellow. Christine couldn't have picked a better man to wed." Father Pierre interrupted.

"I quite agree, yet it seems as though Christine is for some reason troubled by the wedding. Every time the topic comes up she gets this distant look on her face and it takes ages to snap her out of it. If only she hadn't met _him_, this would have been smoother."

"She met _him? He _didn't hurt her, I hope, such a sweet girl yet so innocent and confused. If only Gustave and Marguerite hadn't died so early on in her life."

"Father, Christine will not tell anyone what it is that is troubling her. Could you possibly speak to her? I think she'll probably open up to you since she sees you as one of her only links to her parents."

"I'd be glad to, Antoinette, her father would never forgive me for not finding the root of his daughter's distress."

"When shall you come to speak to her? Please, I know you're busy, but try to make it as soon as possible—I don't know who else could help her. I do hope that whatever it is, she'll release it and move on."

"I take it that you are staying with the DeChagnys also, at least until the opera house has been repaired."

"You have made a correct assumption, Father." Madame Giry replied.

"Then you must allow me to accompany you on your return. I shall speak to Christine now as I have nothing of any immediacy in the church to attend to." He locked the door, then turned and motioned for her to walk down the cobblestone steps first, saying, "Shall we see to our cold-footed bride?"

Madame Giry smiled at his antics, "Father, you flatter me, but you should not start a scandal. What would your parishioners think if they saw you?"

"Ah, yes, I almost forgot myself," He trundled down the stairs like he was once again a suitor scrambling to see her through the dormitory window, before he realized he was called to the priesthood.

Madame Giry chuckled and followed him calling, "Father, have you forgotten that you do not know your way? You still need me to guide you to the house. You're no longer in your prime."

At this statement, Father Pierre slowed down to wait for Madame Giry, "You're quite right, Madame."

They proceeded onward to the DeChagny Chateau.

Christine, wrapped in a fluffy white towel, stepped out of the bath, the one thing she truly enjoyed in her new life, the fact that she could take a sweetly scented bath in her own bathroom. She knew she was supposed to ring for a maid to come to aid her in dressing herself, but she didn't. She wanted to dress herself on her own. She donned her undergarments, struggling a little bit with tying the corset, then her dress. The dress was an exquisite shade of dark blue that when paired with her pale skin, made her look almost ethereal. She swept her hair up into an elegant chignon and put on light makeup. Once she put on the matching shoes, she checked herself in the mirror.

That was when Meg came rushing in, "Christine! Mother brought Father Pierre here for a visit. He says he wants to talk to you about the wedding."

"All right, go tell your mother and Father Pierre that I will be right down. I just have to do one last thing."

As Meg left she commented, "By the way, Christine, you look amazing in that dress."

Christine sighed and with a quick sprits of some really expensive perfume Raoul insisted on purchasing for her, she quickly readied herself to converse with Father Pierre.

She stopped and listened in on the conversation those downstairs were having.

"You must not ask—whispering" someone, probably Madame Giry, said.

"Make small talk don't--more whispering" probably Meg said.

"After you find out, I'd like—even more whispering" probably Raoul.

"I may be a priest, but I still know how to hold a proper conversation with someone—"

When Christine heard Father Pierre's voice, she wasn't able to stand there any longer since it had been such a long time since she'd seen him last.

"Father Pierre! What a pleasant surprise! To what do we owe the honor of your presence?"

"You, believe it or not, I had to come to speak with Gustave's daughter before she becomes the Vicomtess DeChagny. Come, walk with me outside and show me the grounds of your new home."

"How can I resist a request like that? But only if you tell me stories of my mama and papa." Christine answered, leading him through the living room to the outdoors. Not really caring that she hadn't excused herself from the room as an proper lady should. As far as she was concerned, she was not a proper lady or Vicomtess yet.

"I've told you all of my stories. It's your turn to share some of yours, like the plans for your wedding."

Christine grimaced at the mention ever so slightly as she sat down on the bench in her favorite garden hoping that Father Pierre would not pick up on it.

Unfortunately, he did.

"Weddings are supposed to be joyous occasions," Father said, "not a time for sadness or grimacing."

"How?"

"Come, come, you're exactly like your mother. She too had an extremely readable face. So, tell Father Pierre what's wrong. Maybe I can fix it for you."

Christine sighed. Should she tell him that every time the wedding is brought up she thinks of another man, one who had been forgotten by the world? He wouldn't judge her too harshly, would he?

"Father, I can't help but think I may have been too hasty in my agreement to marry Raoul. Certainly, I wouldn't be for want, he's shown me that already, but he won't allow me music because he is still raw from the events that transpired at the opera house. I was not sure that I could sacrifice music for love, but then it occurred to me that love is accepting another person's life, all of it, the good and the bad. Raoul isn't, he's still trying to totally wipe away any memory of my past from my life. The Opera had been a very large part of my life, one that I'm not sure I can forget even after the wedding. Does that make any sense to you?"

"Yes, it does. But you also have to think of who Raoul is. He is a part of the Parisian elite who already don't like the sound of this marriage so he's trying to maintain his reputation, but at the same time build yours." Father Pierre replied.

"You make a good point, but why should he care what others say about us if he loves me as much as he says."

"There's someone else, isn't there? You are comparing Raoul to another man, one whom you spurned during the altercation under the Opera maybe?"

"How do you do that? It's pretty creepy."

"Actually, Raoul told me some of the story of your time as Prima Donna and someone else filled me in on the rest. Do you love this man more?"

"That's just the problem, I'm not sure. I've tried to sort it out but I eventually gave up because it led to more confusion. What do I do?"

"First, you must decide where your heart lies on your own. Then you follow it. If both of these men love you as they say they do, neither should be resentful of your choice because both will want the best for you."

"Thank you, I shall take your words under consideration, Father."

In her heart she knew she had already made her choice. Now she had to find a way to break it to the other party, without there being any hard feelings. She knew that it was wishful thinking, though.

"What did she say, Father? Is there anything I can do to help her?" Raoul grabbed Father Pierre as he came through the door.

Father Pierre looked at Raoul, he thought of what to say because he wouldn't betray Christine's confidence in him, but on the other hand, her fiancé was really worried.

"My best advice would be this: She can dress her own wounds and make her own choices. I'd best be going, I do believe my work is done. Meg, Antoinette, Raoul, bonsoir."

A/N: Please review! I know there have to be people who are reading this. Any constructive criticism you can give me will be accepted gratefully as it will enhance and add to your reading experience! No flames!

The Phantom shall make an appearance soon.

TNC,

Writer Muse


	4. Phantom of Old

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Erik, Christine, or any other characters mentioned. All I own is the plot. Songs owned by ALW.**

A/N: Thank you to the three people who have this on their alert lists! Hands out red roses tied with black ribbons.

Enjoy!

Chapter 3

Antoinette gingerly made her way into a part of the Opera House she hadn't been in for awhile. The little dinghy was where he had said it was. She made it across to his home with no trouble from his infamous siren. He was trying to compose one last opera at his organ, but Madame Giry knew that it was only to keep his thoughts busy.

"Erik? You asked for me." Antoinette Giry said softly so as to avoid any nasty surprises from him.

"Of course, Antoinette, I've been waiting for you. How are things above?"

"All right"

"And Christine? How is the plan going? No glitches I hope."

"No, just as you thought, the Vicomte was very receptive but Christine wasn't quite as receptive. She misses her Angel of Music, Erik. She won't be made to forget you that easily."

"She has to move on! Have you suggested moving to London to the Vicomte yet? I can't bear to think of her living with the scandal that I caused. I never deserved her. She is an Angel while I am a demon, she is beauty while I'm a corpse—"

"Erik! I told you that you've got to stop calling yourself those things. How are you going to be able to do anything more than this; if you think of yourself so negatively?"

"Antoinette, I will never do anything outside of here. Society never will give me that chance. The one person I love loves someone else. I will make sure that she is happy, then I shall die here, sitting at my organ. Ah, the irony the place a lie was born is the same place he'll die."

"Don't talk like that, do me a favor. Go to their wedding, just allow Christine to feel your presence one last time before she becomes the Vicomtess DeChagny. Please."

"I'll think about it. I make no promises, though, now go and take the box with you. It's for Christine." The Phantom replied.

"What is it? Or should I even ask?"

"It's a certain wedding dress I know she'll be wanting. I could tell she loved it; she was always very readable to me."

"Erik—"

"Just give it to her. If she doesn't wear it; it won't faze me. I've already seen her in it."

For the first time, Madame Giry saw a dreamy expression cross his face.

"Erik, go," Madame Giry shoved the box with the wedding dress in it, "deliver the dress to her yourself. If anything it will give both of you some closure at last so the two of you can move on for you both seem to be frozen in time."

"Antoinette, I can't!"

"I don't believe it! The infamous Phantom of the Opera who has done much more difficult things and has gotten away with it can't do something as simple as delivering a wedding dress to a former student of his. Talk about irony."

When Antoinette saw the I'm-about-to-prove-you-very-wrong look in his eye, she knew she had hit her mark. She left him in silence on the Rue Scribe side.

Erik watched her go and once he could no longer hear her footsteps, he swooped toward the swan bed and pulled out an engraved box made of ebony, with a silver locking mechanism. He jiggled it for a second or two, and then he opened it. He blew off the excess dust. Gently, he removed his white porcelain and replaced it with the new one. He hadn't lied to Christine when he said he could make himself a normal man's face and she was about to see that for herself. Maybe, just maybe he still had a chance. If he could start over without the Angel of Music charade maybe he could woo her. After all, he fashioned his life with possibilities, why couldn't he reap them now?

A/N: Hopefully now I'll get a review or two or three with constructive criticisms or impatient readers wanting me to update.

TNC,

Writer Muse


	5. The Circle of Love Expands

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Erik, Christine, or any other characters mentioned. All I own is the plot. Songs owned by ALW.**

A/N: Thank you to those who have reviewed! I've made a favorites list, yes! Hands out red roses tied with black ribbons.

Enjoy!

Chapter 4

A little later:

Christine hurried out into the city for she still had not found a wedding dress, and she didn't want Raoul to know that she had been dreaming of a certain one.

"I'll just pick out the first one I like and be done with this whole ordeal. It's just so hard to pick out a wedding dress, especially when I don't even know if I want to get married." Christine thought to herself as she entered what looked to be a promising boutique. "On the other hand, I'm not sure if he is still alive…"

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle, how can I help you today? Is there anything in particular that you are looking for? My name is Manette if you need any help."

As the owner turned to walk away, Christine answered, "Actually, your help would be greatly appreciated, Manette. I'm looking for a wedding dress and I have not a clue as to where to begin."

"Oh, congratulations! And who, may I ask, is the lucky man?"

"Raoul, the Vicomte DeChagny"

"So you're Christine Daae, the former Prima Donna. A pleasure to meet you; you're so lucky to be marrying the Vicomte. I don't think there is a richer or more handsome man in the city of Paris. When is the wedding?"

"In about a week and a half." Christine answered and thought, "She's wrong, there is a man that is much more than Raoul. I just wish someone would give me a sign that he lives."

"I heard you were taken by the Phantom of the Opera. Are the stories true? Is he really as repulsive as they say? If it were me, I'd never have let him get that close—"

Putting on her best impression of an elitist, Christine answered her, "I believe I came here to find a wedding dress, not to be interrogated by a nosy gossip. If I tell you anything by tomorrow morning, the gossips in this City will have probably inverted it into a tale I won't even recognize. If you are incapable of helping me find a wedding dress; I'll just take my business elsewhere."

"I do apologize Mademoiselle. It has been a long while since I have had someone of such notoriety in my boutique—people have called you the harbinger of Death himself. But, I believe you need a wedding dress, because of who you are marrying white is the only way to go. You'll need something that exudes elegant sophistication. Come, come, no time to waste." Manette said as she started picking out possible gowns for Christine.

Finally, after what seemed like hours to Christine, she and Manette found a gown that was fitting of the one who would become the future Vicomtess DeChagny. Christine paid for the garment with the money Raoul had given her and hurried out of the shop, imagining what the woman might say about her to her future customers.

As Fate would have it, she would not make it back to the DeChagny's without another little confrontation because she wasn't looking where she was going. She hurried headlong into a man on the sidewalk. Each one's packages went flying.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Monsieur, I wasn't paying attention. Usually, I'm not so clumsy." Christine apologized.

"It's all right, Mademoiselle, I, too should have been paying more attention. Are you hurt?"

Christine took a good look at the man before answering. He, if his wardrobe were anything to go by, was one of Raoul's society and he was very gentlemanly. He reminded her of someone though she didn't know whom.

"No, I'm not hurt. A couple of scratches but I've had worse. May I ask you're name, Monsieur?" She asked blushing and with a slight giggle.

She immediately reprimanded herself, "Why are you flirting with this man? He may be attractive and well-mannered, but you're engaged already. Remember Raoul?"

He interrupted her thoughts by answering, "My name is Olivier Gabriel. Here is your package, Mademoiselle." He picked up her package and gave it to her then took his own. "Au revoir, Mademoiselle."

"You may call me Christine."

"All right, then, au revoir Mademoiselle Christine." And with a flourish he delicately took her hand and kissed it.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Gabriel."

"Ah, but the pleasure was mine, Mlle. Christine."

As he turned to continue on his way, Christine asked him one last thing, "Monsieur Gabriel, I beg your pardon if you're in any way offended by my question, but I need an outside perspective; how do you know if you are truly in love?"

"Why should I be offended by such a question? I'll gladly answer, from my experience at least. You know its true love when it keeps you up at night, when you feel as though you are bound to the person even if they are thousands of miles away. You know its true love when the love binds you so tightly you cannot live without recognizing it. It consumes your thoughts. You can't help but try to find ways to make the person happy."

"Thank you, Monsieur Gabriel."

"You're very welcome, Mlle. Christine. Whoever you're engaged to is one lucky chap to find a woman who contemplates things for herself."

"I don't think he feels that way." Christine mumbled.

Christine didn't think she had been heard by Monsieur Gabriel as they parted ways. But unfortunately for her, Monsieur Gabriel had been blessed with good hearing.

Upon hearing her mumbling, Olivier thought to himself, "I can't believe the bloke she's engaged to doesn't believe he's lucky to have her. She's just so beautiful. He'd better be careful or else I may steal her from under his nose whoever he is."

A/N: The lovers' triangle has expanded into a square. All you constructive criticizers and impatient readers, you know the drill. Review!

TNC,

Writer Muse


	6. Crumbling

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Erik, Christine, or any other characters mentioned. All I own is the plot. Song owned by Michelle Branch.**

A/N: Thank you to those who have reviewed! Hands out red roses tied with black ribbons.

Enjoy!

Chapter 5

"Christine! Where did you sneak off to? No one knew where you'd gone. Tell someone the next time you leave; I had expected the worst."

"Raoul, I've told you before. I can handle myself in the city. I was a chorus girl after all; it was a requirement then to be able to go shopping or wherever and come back or Madame Giry would have had our heads."

"That's just it, Christine, you are no longer a chorus girl or Prima Donna at the Opera anymore. You are, however my fiancée and the future Vicomtess DeChagny. So when I tell you to take someone with you or tell someone where you are going, I expect you to comply."

"What happened to the Raoul who sang sweet nothings in my ear on the roof of the Opera?" Christine thought to herself. "When did he become such a task master? Was it after he met him or had he always been that way and I failed to notice because I was blinded by a childhood fantasy?"

"Raoul, I apologize next time I'll alert the whole of Paris when I go out on errands or to visit friends." Christine answered coldly.

"Didn't I agree to marry him so I could have free—"

Christine crumpled as the back of Raoul's hand contacted her face.

"Don't you speak to me like that, Christine Daae. I am your husband, and I would like you to speak to me like we are among society. If something like that slipped out of your mouth while we are frequenting in polite soc—"

"And what about me?" Christine answered angrily, "I deserve an apology for what you just did. I'm you're wife, for God's sake, not one of your incompetent servants!"

"Chris—"

"No, Raoul, you've said your piece now it's my turn. Where is the freedom you promised me? Where is my hope? You promised you'd love me for who I am not who I used to be. And yet you can't seem to get this illusion of "Little Lotte" out of your head. You know, I bumped into a gentleman on the way home today. I asked him how one would know if they were truly in love. As he explained his definition of true love I thought about our relationship. It just doesn't match up anymore, Raoul. It just doesn't."

"I'm so sorry, Christine, I never realized that you needed me to explain why I'm so overly protective; it's just that I don't want to lose you again."

"It's to late for apologies, _Monsieur_, I'm through being a statue that you won, stuck on a pedestal, and never touched again because you want to protect me. I'm finished with acting like I like the people who you have deemed worthy to frequent in your circles. They're all odious; they'll say one thing to your face and another when they think you're out of earshot. I'm tired of being unable to sing just because you don't want to remember the Opera. And most of all, I'm tired of faking like I love you!"

Raoul, unable to think of anything to say, backhanded her on the opposite cheek. But this time Christine would not allow herself to crumple in weakness. She maintained her stance when he slapped her, a defiant look etched across her face.

"Is that all you can do? Slap me? The woman you lured into marriage by false pretenses. I don't care anymore, especially since I finally realized that I cannot truly love you." Christine slipped off her engagement ring, threw it as hard as she could at his face, grabbed her things (which she had packed the night before), and left.

Raoul finally found words and yelled after her, "Fine, Christine, do what you want, but when you return don't expect me to welcome you with open arms."

Christine called back in reply, "When have you ever welcomed me with open arms?"

Christine took off from the DeChagny Chateau for the Opera Populaire, with any luck she could at least get herself a spot in the chorus, because it was the only other home she knew.

She walked up to the doors and read the sign typed in bold print: "Female Chorus auditions today. All interested sign in right inside the door and proceed to the stage. We will call you to audition eventually."

"I guess they're pretty desperate for singers especially now with the Opera's newly acquired reputation." Christine thought, "Maybe they will take me back if they're desperate."

She followed the sign's instructions and proceeded to the stage area. When the managers saw her they paled, but Firmin told her to put her things down in the orchestra pit.

"And what is it that you will be singing, Mlle. Daae, or is it Vicomtess now?" Andre asked her.

"Mlle. Daae. Actually, I'm not sure of the title of it, Messrs. It's a song my father used to sing to me."

"Well, then, you can begin when you are ready."

Christine took a steadying breath and began:

"_When you're all alone  
And you need a light  
Someone to guide you  
Through the night  
Just remember that  
I am here  
To hold you close and  
Dry your tears…"_

"That's fine, Mlle. Daae, welcome back to the Opera Populaire." Firmin said.

"Where will I be staying?" Christine asked.

"We thought that was unspoken. You're old room of course."

"There's no way I can switch rooms?"

"No, none of the returning chorus or ballet girls will go near the room for fear that the Phantom lives."

Christine sighed, "Fine, whatever." And grabbed her things and headed to her old room to unpack.

When she left Andre leaned over to Firmin and asked, "Did you see the bruises on her face? What do you think happened? God willing, hopefully it wasn't him."

A/N: The lovers' square is still intact. Raoul won't give up on Christine even with his tough talk. Would y'all like longer chapters?

All you constructive criticizers and impatient readers, you know the drill. Review!

TNC,

Writer Muse


	7. Home is Where the Heart Is

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Erik, Christine, or any other characters mentioned. All I own is the plot. Song owned by Michelle Branch.**

A/N: Thank you to those who have reviewed! Hands out red roses tied with black ribbons.

Enjoy!

Chapter 6

Christine sighed as she pushed open the door to her old room. Everything was exactly as she'd left it except for the layer of dust covering everything.

"Once I get this place cleaned up it will be home sweet home once again. At least I hope it will…" she thought as her gaze swept the room and lingered on the mirror. "Time to get to work."

She cleaned until the room was once again pristine just as it was when she left. As a finishing touch, she took out a vase she "borrowed" from Raoul, filled it with water, placed some roses in it, and then set it on her bureau.

"Finished. Now, I wonder where Meg is. She should be banging down my door; she probably doesn't realize I've come back to the Opera, though, I should surprise her." With that thought, Christine grabbed a cloak and swept off in search of Meg. If she hadn't been so focused on finding Meg, maybe she would have seen the man that slipped in her room, deposited a package on her bed, then left.

"What happened to Mlle. Daae, Monsieur Raoul? I went to wake her, but she wasn't in her bed. Did something happen? Or did she just get an early start?" Marie asked.

"She got an early start, we had a fight, but don't worry, she'll come back before long. Once she realizes that no one wants a former Prima Donna, especially now that she no longer has her _tutor_." Raoul replied. "Would you get me my usual breakfast now?"

"As you wish." Replied Marie, on her way out she muttered, "I pray to god she proves you wrong; I believe she will."

"What was that, Marie?"

"Nothing, Monsieur, nothing."

"That's what I thought."

Raoul sat down and started to plan how he would win Christine back from whatever she chose for herself.

**Opera House**

"Monsieurs! Surely you didn't! Mlle. Daae returns to the Opera and you put her in the very room that her trouble started in?"

"She didn't raise any complaint or we would have found her an—" Firmin answered.

"Of course she didn't complain! She wanted a job; she knows her reputation based on the Phantom-she would have done anything in order to gain a place here so that she could sing again."

"Madame, do you have a complaint to lodge against Mlle. Daae? Is that what this is about?"

"No, Mssrs, I have a complaint to lodge about your blindness! Did you not see the bruises around her eyes? Obviously, things are not well between her and Raoul. And you go and place her in a room where she experienced dishonesty and betrayal! Are you two that callous?" Madame Giry responded.

"How do you know anything about her? You weren—"

"Actually, I was. As ballet mistress, I've learned the fine art of remaining unseen yet my presence is felt by my girls."

"Where do you suggest she room? Especially if she doesn't want to change rooms? What then?" Madame Giry, fed up with the stupidity of the managers, stormed out.

**Outside the Opera**

Olivier sauntered down the street. It was a beautiful day in Paris. Nippy but he didn't mind in the slightest. He was secretly hoping, though he would be loathe to admit it, that he was hoping to bump into a certain former Prima Donna. The woman was as beautiful as he remembered when he went to see her in the disastrous _Don Juan Triumphant. _He only hoped that she would see him for who he was, human.

"Well, here I am. The infamous Opera Populaire. I only hope they are in need of someone with my talents."

Olivier entered and inquired of the first person he saw where the managers' office was. Once he found it he immediately sat down with the managers to apply for M. Reyer's position, since it seemed as though M. Reyer flat out refused to enter the building, even with a bribe of a high amount.

A ballet rat was eavesdropping outside the door since there was nothing for her to do and word spread faster than wildfire that M. Reyer wouldn't be returning and that a M. Gabriel would be taking over his position. And that was far from all that spread.

"I heard that he is such a catch. Tall, muscular, polite, gentlemanly—"

"I hear that he can make any girl weak in the knees by just a mere glance."

"Did you hear if he is pursuing anyone in particular yet? I wouldn't mind if he threw a glance my way."

"Girls! The Opera season hasn't even officially started yet and already I'm getting the feeling that I will be chasing you girls away from your new seductees." Madame Giry said as she stomped her cane into the ground. "This room is not for your gossip sessions if you're in here you'd better be on the bar working. Now out!"

The ballet girls fled.

Madame Giry saw M. Gabriel in the hallway on the way to her room. "Are you lost, Monsieur? You shouldn't go in the direction of my girls; they've all decided to try for your affections."

"Too bad they're too late. Someone's already stolen my heart; she's the only one I have an interest in."

"May I inquire as to which of my girls has stolen your heart?" Madame Giry asked as she led him away from the eavesdroppers she knew were lurking, for good measure she shouted, "If I catch anyone out of bed, they'll be out of a job here."

She smirked as she heard the scurrying.

She then turned back to M. Gabriel and continued, "I'm sorry you were saying?"

M. Gabriel responded, "What do you know of Mlle. Daae?"

"Monsieur, out of all the girls in the Opera, you choose the one with the worst luck in love. How did you meet Mlle Daae?"

"Serendipity, we kind of bumped into each other about a week ago, ever since I couldn't get her out of my mind."

"Is that the explanation for your presence at the Opera?"

"Actually, no, M. Reyer happens to be a good friend of mine. It was his suggestion that I replace him."

"Quite a few coincidences surround you, don't they?"

"If you say so." M. Gabriel answered as he abruptly ended the conversation by returning to his quarters.

Christine returned to her room after having a long conversation with Meg, just like old times to find a package on her bed.

"I forgot to return that stupid wedding dress; well I can do it tomorrow." She thought as she tried to find a place to shove the package so it would be out of her sight. "One more peek at the dress shouldn't hurt. I'll never return to Raoul in it."

She was about to open it when Meg burst into the room, "Christine, you've got a new admirer. He says he knows you. His name is Olivier Gabriel. He's just been hired as a replacement for M. Reyer He wants you to come to the auditions they are holding for Prima Donna. Hurry!"

Forgetting all about the package, Christine ran with Meg to the audition for Prima Donna and to see M. Gabriel.

A/N: you all know the drill. Review!

TNC,

Writer Muse


	8. Auditions and Sickness

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Erik, Christine, or any other characters mentioned. All I own is the plot.**

A/N: Thank you to those who have reviewed! Hands out red roses tied with black ribbons.

Enjoy!

Chapter 7

"Is this everyone? Then we shall start w—"

"Wait, Monsieur Gabriel, one more!" Meg shouted as she held the door open for Christine, who flew in.

"Ah, Mademoiselle, next time we shall start without you. Lateness is equivocal to disinterest. And I do not wish for anyone who is not interested in giving 300 percent as Prima Donna." M.Gabriel then addressed all the Prima hopefuls, "Have I made myself clear to you all? If you don't want to work, don't bother auditioning."

Except for a few chorus girls who left, everyone stayed ready to prove that they could handle being Prima Donna.

Olivier then turned to Christine, "Since you decided to arrive late, you can show the others how it's done."

Christine took her place on stage, and mentally prepared herself to sing while the other hopefuls took seats in the theatre.

Once everyone was settled in, M. Gabriel instructed Christine to begin when she was ready.

Christine took a deep breath and began singing. After a few bars, Olivier cut her off with, "That will be fine, Mlle. Daae, please take a seat."

Christine stayed and listened to her competition. Some M. Gabriel cut off quickly because they were unbearable to listen to; many sounded as if they were trying to sing like La Carlotta, they were also dismissed. It seemed as though she was a shoe-in as Prima Donna. But there was one last singer left.

She took a place on the stage, took a couple of breaths as though to steady herself, then began.

Christine could not find a thing to fault her on. Her tone was exquisite, her posture, her breathing, all seemed to flow with the song. Yet there was something familiar about the way the girl approached the song, but Christine couldn't quite figure out what it was.

When the girl finished, Christine politely applauded her like everyone else, her mind was whirling with questions she needed answers to. M. Gabriel dismissed them, saying that he would post the Prima Donna's name on his office door.

Christine caught the strange singer before she took off to her room.

"I couldn't help but notice the way you sang." Christine said, "How did you learn to sing like that?"

"The same way you did," She answered. "through a passion for my craft; the rest fell into place from there."

Christine frowned in thought then asked, "Yes, but who taught you to sing like that?"

"You should be able to tell me, Mlle. Daae."

Before Christine could ask the girl anything else, she ran off to join her friends, leaving Christine to think.

"It can't be. He couldn't have chosen someone to replace me that quickly. He swore that no matter what he'd love me forever." She thought.

"How did it go?" Meg asked when Christine entered in the ballet dormitories, "You're a shoe-in for Prima Donna, because after all you did have the title for one season more than any of the others can say. I'm sorry I didn't stay to watch but all of the Carlotta copycats were starting to deafen me."

"It's all right, but that means you missed my only real competition for the role." Christine said.

"You mean that there was someone else who sang as well as you can? Who is she? Did she work here last season? Did you ask her where she learned to sing?"

"Yes, I didn't catch her name, but I do recognize her, so she must have worked here before. When I asked her how she learned to sing she said something about passion. Then when I asked her who taught her she answered that I should be able to tell her. I have a feeling that he's chosen another pupil."

Meg looked at the ground and started to rock on her heels. Christine noticed and asked her, "What do you know, Meg? I know you; there's something you're not telling me. Spit it out."

"Oh, Christine, Maman didn't want me to tell you but I feel like I have to now. After the ruckus at the Opera, Maman continued to visit your Angel up until about a week ago he was always there; then one day it was like he just vanished there was nothing to show he was living there anymore. So you see, he couldn't have taken on another pupil, not without everyone noticing."

Christine felt faint, Meg saw her start to sway and guided her to her bed, where Christine sat like an old rag doll.

"So he's totally packed up and left here? Where could he have gone? He can't have gone, he couldn't have!" Christine was frantic.

Meg laid her on the bed and felt her forehead. "Christine, you went down to the cellars again to try and find him, didn't you? You're burning up! You've got to take care of yourself or else how are you possibly going to survive a season as Prima Donna? Get some rest I'll tell Maman you're sick."

Meg turned off Christine's light and shut the door. Christine did not allow herself to sleep; however, she stared at the ceiling repeating the phrase: "He's gone…" in her head.

**Now to Madame Giry**

"Meg! Why are you late? Surely you had to know that practice started an hour ago!" Mdm. Giry shouted at her when Meg entered. "And where is Christine?"

"Christine is sick, Maman, she's flushed and says her stomach is aching her." Meg answered as she took her place at the bar.

"Are you sure? The two of you are known for your made up illnesses in order to get out of practice…"

"Maman, I think she's really sick this time. You can see for yourself when we're done here."

Madame Giry picked up on her daughter's expression so she restarted the girls at the bar again. It was going to be a long day.

**And back to Christine…**

Christine had fallen asleep soon after Meg had left the room.

As she started to wake up she felt something cool on her forehead. She did not remember falling asleep with anything near her face except the pillow. She could hear someone shuffling around her room.

"Who's there? If you don't tell me who you are I shall start screaming. I have nothing of value here I swear to you—"

"Calm down, it's just me, Olivier, remember? Madame Giry asked me to look in on you, something about you being sick. You had a pretty high fever, Mlle. Daae, hence the rag. Would you like some soup? It may make you feel better."

Christine was taken aback by his caring for her. He'd not yet even once made more than a friendly advance; something Christine was sure any other man would try. She blushed with embarrassment when she realized that she had both been staring at him and leaving his question unanswered.

"Soup sounds lovely, Olivier."

"Is beef and onion soup all right? It's the only one I was able to make."

"Yes, I remember my father used to make it for me often. He swore it was an elixir for anything." Christine answered as he handed her a bowl of the warm soup.

She tried a bite and found it to be as delicious as she remembered.

"Where did you learn to cook? This is divine! Just like I remember father used to make."

"I'm actually self-taught; Mlle. Mdm. Giry told me it was one of your favorites.

"Oh." Christine answered at a loss for anything else to say.

They ate in companionable silence, breaking it every so often to ask the other a question about the other's life.

When Sleep finally claimed Christine, Olivier blew out the candle and whispered, "Thank you for your company tonight, Christine, you are truly an angel among those here. It is truly a shame your fiancé couldn't see that. He'll never hit you again, I promise you that."

Then he shut the door behind him and came face to face with Madame Giry.

"I trust you took good care of her. How is she?"

"She still has a slight fever, but she did eat when she awoke. You were correct in your advisement that I make beef and onion soup. I've never seen her eat so much…"

"Should I warn Mlle. Daae that she has a stalker?" Mdm. Giry asked teasingly.

Olivier blushed and returned to his quarters humming a tune from _Hannibal_.

**The next morning**

When Christine awoke the next morning, the first thing she saw was that Msr. Gabriel had tidied her room for her. She also saw the white box that contained the wedding dress.

"I forgot about that, I guess Olivier thought I was keeping it." She thought as she got out of bed. "One last peek…"

When she lifted the lid, the box was empty.

"He must have hung it up thinking it was a costume for the Masque coming up." She thought.

She opened the door to her closet and gasped.

"That's not the dress I bought. But how is it possible that the dresses were switched without my knowledge? Not even Meg knows about it…"

A/N: You all know the drill. Review!

TNC,

Writer Muse


	9. Victim

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Erik, Christine, or any other characters or song references mentioned. All I own is the plot.**

A/N: Thank you to those who have reviewed and the silent ones who haven't! Hands out red roses tied with black ribbons. Sorry about last chap but I needed a filler.

Enjoy!

Chapter 8

"Christine! I'm so glad you're better! You should hear what everyone's saying about you—"

Christine only had one thing on her mind, though, "Have the results from the audition been posted by Monsieur Gabriel yet?"

"This morning, but the formal announcement hasn't been made yet. I believe that Monsieur Gabriel was waiting for your health to return before he posted them."

"So what are we waiting for, then? Let's go!" Christine hurried off in the direction of the office.

Meg could tell by her stride that she was confident she was the choice. "I hope she gets it, for her sake, because of the rumors—" Meg thought as she followed her friend.

When Meg caught up with her friend it was at M. Gabriel's door. Meg could read her friend easily, so she knew there was something wrong.

"Did you get it, Christine? Are you Prima Donna again?"

Christine looked over at her friend, trying to quash the tears that were welling up, "No, do you remember the other singer I told you about? She's the new Prima. And I'm her understudy."

"There's no shame in that. Look at yourself; the Opera will wear you out if you let it. M. Gabriel knows that you were sick, he probably thought he was doing you a favor."

"I understand that, but I guess I was hoping that I could prove to the world that I could maintain the position without outside help. Everyone thinks I turned tricks for the Phantom, and in return he trained my voice. That was never true."

Meg inwardly winced. So she had heard the rumors about her relationship with the Phantom. "Now you get that chance. You can still take the position away from this girl just like you took it from La Carlotta."

"I hope you are right."

"Of course I am I can hear everyone now praising you as a virtuoso in your own right, proving to them all that you can do it on your own."

Christine sighed then smiled, "Thanks, Meg."

"That's what I'm here for; you just wouldn't be the same if you didn't have me to give you a vote of confidence."

"Well I guess the ladylike thing to do would be to go congratulate the new Prima Donna and let her know I have no hard feelings."

With that, Christine and Meg went to breakfast and congratulated the new Prima Donna.

**In Christine's Room**

Later Christine found herself in a contemplative mood. She entered her room and walked straight to the mirror, "Where are you, Erik? I realized I made a horrid mistake, but when I come back to ask your forgiveness. You've already left these walls. Today, it was proven that without your help I'm nothing. I can't even hold onto the position of Prima Donna without help. Was I even a good singer the first time?"

Little did Christine know that she was both speaking aloud and that she had an eavesdropper.

"So, the _wandering child_ has found courage enough to return to face her _Angel of Music!_" A voice boomed within the walls of Christine's room.

"_Angel, I hear you. Speak. I listen. Stay by my side guide me. Angel my soul was weak forgive me. Enter at last Master!_"

"You dare address me by that title, Vicomtess? If I remember correctly, you haven't called me by that title in quite awhile. Last name I remember that you had for me was the _pitiful creature of darkness. _What's the matter? You and that fop of yours have a lovers' spat? Is that why you came crying back to me? Or is it just because you get some ghastly pleasure out of torturing me?"

"Two can play this game; if this is the game he's playing." Christine thought.

She answered him, "Oh, pardon me, I forgot. You're only a man or should I say Phantom? And if I remember correctly you had Raoul strung up with your lasso ready to kill him. I was trying to reason with you. And I chose you, remember? Or did you forget that fact while you were playing victim to the world? If we're arguing who's more victimized then it must be my turn. First, I'm not a Vicomtess, second your _fop_ and I are not lovers anymore and it will stay that way as long as I'm alive, third you shouldn't speak of what you do not understand."

Erik yawned and asked, "And what is it I don't understand, oh victimized Christine? You don't even know what it is to be a victim. Come back when you have a better sob story."

"Don't discount me just yet, Erik." Christine said as she started to remove her makeup, "I have one last card to play."

When she was finished she turned to the mirror, where she knew Erik was hidden and stared in silence.

It didn't take Erik long to see Christine's twin black eyes, it took everything he had not to go to her and care for her eyes.

"I know what it is to fall victim to false love." Christine finally whispered.

Erik could only bring himself to ask the next logical question, "Who did that to you?"

Christine answered, "Who else but my ever so loving ex fiancé, the Vicomte Raoul DeChagny."

Erik immediately regained his detached care he had before he saw her unmade up face and said, "So, let your new courter take care of it?"

At Christine's confused look, he added, "Monsieur Olivier Gabriel? You and he seem _friendly_."

Christine shot back, "I was sick; he helped nurse me back to health. What you saw was no more than the participants of the Opera taking care of one another. One last question: how did you restore the dress?"

To this, she got no answer. She realized he had left her so she readied herself for bed and allowed herself a new mantra to repeat: "He never left at all…"

**Olivier's Office**

Olivier was in his office paging through possible Operas that could do for a season opener.

He had been slightly dozing off when a voice that shook the walls boomed, "Who are you and where is M. Reyer? I have a problem with his choice for Prima Donna!"

"I'm sorry; M. Reyer no longer works here. I am his replacement."

"Then my problem is with you then, Monsieur. Why is Christine Daae no longer the star? This Prima you have chosen will not last even a quarter of a season."

"So I can assume I am conversing with the Phantom of the Opera I've heard so much about."

"That you may, you must have heard of my temper, too, so answer the question!"

"Christine has been sick, Monsieur Phantom, I thought it prudent not to push her once again into the limelight until I am sure that she is well enough to handle the stresses that go with it. Until then, Louise should serve as a good lead. Her voice is almost as good and as passionate as Christine's at the peak of performance."

"And I am telling you, _Monsieur that_ this Louise of yours will have a reign half that of La Carlotta's last."

"If that happens, I'll be sure to place the blame where it belongs."

"You'd better be careful, Monsieur, it almost sounded as if you were threatening me. I shouldn't catch you being friendly with Mlle. Daae. If you harm her I will be sure to put the blame where it belongs."

"Monsieur, if the best you can do is threaten me from behind the wall, it doesn't seem as though I should be that frightened.

Silence was Olivier's only companion.

**DeChagny Chateau**

BANG! BANG!

A maid answered the door. "Yes, hello, what is your need to see my master?"

"I am merely a humble messenger hired to deliver a message for your master."

"Well, give it here lad and I'll see to it that he gets it."

"I'm sorry, Madame, but I had strictest orders to hand deliver the response to him."

"Yes, Raoul must have hired him. Raoul's become so very secretive since Christine finally left him. Oh, I do hope he's let go of her for everyone's sakes." The maid thought then told the messenger, "Come in, you should find him in the study-second door on your right.

"Monsieur Raoul, you have a visitor," the maid said into the crack of the door.

"Send him in."

The maid opened the door for the messenger then left to prepare Raoul's supper.

"What news do you have for me, boy?"

The messenger handed him the note.

"You've already gotten your payment, go." Raoul dismissed.

Once the boy had left, Raoul opened the letter and scanned its contents.

"It has started; soon Christine will want to forget all about the Opera house and its resident Phantom and she will be once again in my arms. Fear is always a good means to use when things don't go your way." Raoul thought smugly, "Soon Christine will once again be my fiancée. Soon."

**At Practice**

Olivier spent no time dawdling after the Phantom confronted him. He raced to Madame Giry's quarters and banged on the door until she answered.

Between gasps of air he requested, "Tell me everything you know about the Phantom of the Opera."

"Why the sudden interest, if you don't mind my asking, Monsieur Gabriel?"

"I think he may have decided to return once more to the Opera House to haunt."

"God in heaven, are you sure, Monsieur Gabriel? After all, I've gotten it on good authority that he hasn't returned to his lair. If he did Mlle. Daae would be the first one who would know it since I don't think he ever got over her. And she hasn't said anything to me about his contacting her."

"I hope you are right, Madame, for the sake of the Opera."

"I hope so too, Monsieur, I hope so too. Good night, Monsieur Gabriel, I've got a feeling that in these coming weeks we will not have many opportunities to sleep well, especially if he has returned to this place."

A/N: You all know the drill. Review! And if you need something else to do, I highly recommend moseying over to read Adrienne Thorcuff's The Phantom's Mending Soul and dropping her a review or two.

TNC,

Writer Muse


	10. Christine's Temper

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Erik, Christine, or any other characters or song references mentioned. All I own is the plot.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 9

"Christine! I need to speak with you after practice!" Olivier shouted over a practicing orchestra.

Christine responded, "When did I become Christine to you, M. Gabriel? And if it's about your choice for Prima Donna I've made my peace with the fact that I'm not the only one who can out-sing La Carlotta."

"It's not about that, it's about something else that I'd rather not discuss with prying ears about."

"So then can we discuss this later? I haven't yet mastered the ability to carry on a conversation and learn a new opera at the same time."

"All right, have it your way, Christine." Olivier responded as he returned to helping Louise get the right pitch for her part as Desdemona in Verdi's _Otello._

Christine was to play Emilia, Desdemona's chambermaid and also the extra role of a Cypriot townswoman.

"From the top then, Mlle. Louise, and can you please try to put some emotion into it? You sound disinterested; why are you unable to get into proper character today? You had it completely well-sung during the practice yesterday."

"I don't know, Monsieur, she just doesn't seem as alive. I mean, this _Willow Song _is sodepressing. Why couldn't you have picked a more comedic Opera for the beginning of the new season? It doesn't bode well to start off with a tragedy."

"Are you superstitious, Louise? Is that why you're so jumpy about singing in this Opera? You were fine with singing the aria of Elissa in _Hannibal_. And that's no comedy, either. I'm surprised that you don't have a superstition about that. Can you just sing the solo can we move on with the scene?" Christine asked her.

"I don't appreciate you mocking me, _Mlle Daae._ I know that you are jealous because you've finally realized that you can't amount to much without a masked lover in the wings killing anyone who gets in your way."

Meg dancing with the other ballet girls winced. She knew she forgot to mention that to Christine. She knew Louise had touched a nerve with Christine.

"I hope Christine gives that little brat an earful." Meg thought, "Louise needs to be shown her place. Suddenly Louise has let the position go to her head. What happened to her friendliness?"

"How dare you! My _masked lover_ knows talent when he hears it, or else he'd have never tried to tutor me. I don't even know why I'm trying to explain myself to you because it doesn't matter what I say; you'll still hold the same opinion of me. Oh, and by the way, you shouldn't talk about things that have happened; especially if your facts come from chorus girl gossip."

"Is it true that he's not even a man but a beast, Christine? I've heard he has a face even a mother can't love."

If Christine hadn't been on a short fuse already that morning, she may have let Louise's comment go. But since she wasn't, she jumped the Prima Donna with both fists flying, raging in between punches, "TAKE-THAT-BACK!"

Monsieur Gabriel, Meg, and everyone else on stage immediately leapt to pull the two apart. When order was finally restored, Monsieur Gabriel announced, "I think that's all for today. Practice your lines tonight for I expect to have a flawless rehearsal tomorrow. Christine, if you could come with me so I can speak with you _privately._"

"I hope he sacks her." Louise whispered to the others.

Meg, finally fed up with her attitude, backhanded her and said, "Don't you dare insult Christine again. I'll have you know she never spoke a word against you, let alone go trying to drudge up your past skeletons. With any luck M. Gabriel will sack you. But to paraphrase you: I can only hope."

With that, Meg stormed off to her room, leaving an extremely stupefied Prima Donna in her wake.

"Christine, is there anything going on that I should know about?" M. Gabriel asked her, trying to figure out how to put what he was about to say.

"What do you mean by 'anything'?" Christine said curiously.

"Trouble in general, that little dispute you and Louise had, a stalker perhaps, room issues…I don't know; you just seem like you need someone to listen to you."

"Monsieur, I mean no disrespect, but I have plenty of people who I can turn to that would listen to me."

"Name me one who had no part in the Opera when your tutor was training you. Or name me one who can remain objective, even when you mention the Phantom or what happened between you and Raoul." He told her.

He allowed Christine a chance to think of someone before he continued, "There is no one, is there? So why won't you let me fill that position. What could it hurt?"

Christine wanted to say something about that, since she knew that he harbored feelings for her, but since they were mutual she didn't, "You've proven your point, M. Gabriel."

He interrupted her to say, "Please call me Olivier," he pushed open the doors to the Opera and stepped out, "Since we are no longer in the Opera house."

He then offered her his arm, which she accepted and they proceeded to stroll around heading to no locale in particular.

Olivier prompted her to continue, "You were saying?"

"Olivier, you probably have heard all of the myths concerning my tutor, correct?"

He nodded in assent.

"What you haven't heard is that the so-called Phantom was nothing more than a man who believed he was owed something because of his greatly disfigured face. He was an incredibly brilliant composer, though, and he was extremely skilled in the art of illusion. The only crime he can be accused of was being obsessively in love with me, Christine Daae, who at the time he found me was nothing but a chorus girl."

"Did you love him? Your tutor, that is."

"I suppose in a strange way I did. But that ended quickly, or so I thought. When he took me into his lair that first time, it was musical bliss. But the next morning I ruined it by becoming too curious about what he was hiding behind the mask. I ripped it off but I couldn't find the Angel of Music. All I could see was the distortion of his face."

"Were you ever able to see him as your Angel of Music again? Or could you only see what he probably never wanted you ever to see?"

"I was eventually able to see my Angel, but for some reason I could not see him in the same light I'd seen him when he first came to me. Why all these questions about him? You've never asked before."

"I apologize if my questions are intrusive in any way but it's hard to differentiate between fact and fiction when all you have to go on are the myths. It seems as though you were the only person who really knew him."

"But I really only knew him as my Angel, and then as the Phantom.I never knew him as a person."

"Do you regret that Christine?"

"Every day, and again, why the sudden interest? Listening works both ways."

"Would you think I was crazy if I told you that he addressed me in my room last night? He asked-no, more like demanded-to know why you were not selected Prima Donna and threatened to do the same thing to Louise that he did to La Carlotta, that is if I translated his semantics correctly."

"No, you're not crazy. In fact last night I got a visit from him as well. I regret to mention that our conversation boiled down to who was more wronged." Christine said.

"So you think he has returned."

"I believe he probably has, I knew he couldn't stay away for long. Monsieur, please, don't tell anyone about him. I'd like the chance to try to talk with him first."

"Don't worry, I'll keep silent. Just please promise me that you will come to me if he won't listen to you. I'd rather not have a repeat performance of last season, especially if we can prevent it. Wow, look at the time! I didn't realize it was getting to be this late. I'd better get you back to the Opera house so that you won't incur Madame Giry's wrath."

"I'll race you." Christine said.

"All right, you're on."

They both took off down the street, laughing as they raced.

A man slipped out of the shadows with a notebook in hand.

He muttered to himself, "Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

Then he walked toward the Opera house, also, dreaming of what he would do with the money from the fat paycheck he'd get for what he found out.

A/N: You all know the drill. Review!

TNC,

Writer Muse


	11. Dreams

**Disclaimer: I do not own Erik, Christine, or any other characters or song references mentioned. All I own is the plot.**

A/N: Enjoy!

Chapter 10

_There were crimson roses surrounding the path to the one man she'd always long to know more about. The one man, who was there for her and saw her for what she could be when no one else did, standing across from her. And yet she could not get the voice he had trained to call out his name; she could not move to embrace him. It was as though she was frozen in time._

_Suddenly, the figure morphed and Raoul was standing before her. She reeled in disgust. Unlike her tutor, Raoul took the liberty of speaking to her._

"_Little Lotte, why do you run? I'm only here to return your scarf, which you lost again. You really need to take better care of it. Come back to me, Lotte, don't you want freedom, a world with no more night? Yet you run from me towards that which you say you never wanted. He still has a hold on you, doesn't he? I'll kill him!"_

_Now, she was able to speak, "Raoul, I told you once before I am not your Lotte anymore. I can't be Lotte. Speaking of holds, you seem to have one, too, I lost my scarf so long ago, but yet you seem to continuously return to that. I will never return to you!"_

_Once again the figure morphed, this time into a memory of her and Olivier talking as they strolled outside the Opera house. The memory faded as a voice took over._

"_Why do you run from love? You have someone who loves you, but you flee to another whom you think to offer you something better. Continue on this route and you shall die alone. You'll be lonely and there will be no Erik, Raoul, nor Olivier to bail you out. You can only run so long before Cupid gives up._

"_That's not true! You LIE!"_

"Christine! Christine! Wake up, you're dreaming! It's a nightmare! Christine!" Meg shook her friend trying to wake her.

Christine wimpered and awoke.

Meg helped her to sit up and asked, "What were you dreaming of? You were shrieking something about liars. Little Jammes was about to send for my mother. You really frightened us. Are you all right, Christine? You look as though you saw a ghost."

Christine whispered, "I had a dream I would die alone."

Meg scoffed, "You know that's not true. Not when you have Maman and I."

Christine shook her head, "That's not what I meant, Meg. I mean that I will die single, never having married nor having children of my own."

"But what of Olivier? And Erik? Surely, you would wed one of them."

Christine answered, "I thought so, too. But apparently I have been chasing them away. I know that for one of the two it is true, but for the other…"

Meg replied, "Try to forget the dream, Christine, for it is just that. Return to bed, you'll feel much better in the morning. I promise."

"Thanks for listening, Meg. Good night."

"Good night, Christine."

Christine was not the only one to wake from a horrid dream on this night. One other living in the Opera house was also having troubling dreams.

**Elsewhere in the Opera**

"Why can't I put my past behind me? I've changed my ways. I've even fallen in love once again. So why are the dreams still plaguing me?" he thought to himself, then answered, "It's because I haven't been honest with her, isn't it? I need to tell her the truth, but how will she take it? I don't know what to do; there must be someone I can turn to."

Sleep could not claim him in its gentle embrace for he remained awake trying to find a solution to his problem.

**Outside the DeChagny Chateau**

"Monsieur! Monsieur! Wait! Post arrived for you; the message said your reading of it needs to be with immediacy. Monsieur!"

Raoul paused before he entered his carriage, there was only one issue that he deemed immediate. When he saw the seal on the envelope, he ordered, "Bring it here, quickly, I will not be late on account of your slowness."

The servant scurried over and handed Raoul the letter; Raoul dismissed him with a noncommittal wave of the hand. The letter read:

To Whom It Concerns;

It worked, now time will bear its fruits. Opera in check. Flower and Thorn spend more time together. No signs of Trickster. Commence with next step?

Nyte Wytnys

Raoul smirked, she would be returning to him soon. He'd make her beg, but they would wed; he was sure of it.

He jotted a quick reply:

Wytnys-

Good work, be sure Flower and Thorn do not spend more time than necessary together. Trickster will come; he is a proud sort. Commence next step.

White Knight

He summoned another servant and ordered delivery of the note. As the servant sped off, Raoul boarded the carriage, and told the driver, "Onward to my brother's chateau."

He could rest easy on this trip now knowing that everything was taking care of itself.

_Soon, very soon…_

**In the Cellars of the Opera**

Madame Giry punted across the lake towards his domain. It troubled her that he was threatening to unleash his own brand of magic on the Opera house once again. She'd thought it had finished when Christine had left with Raoul. But now that she had returned with Raoul nowhere in sight….

No, she wouldn't let it get that far. She was going to put a stop to Erik's machinations here and now. She owed it to everyone who ever had entered the building during his last reign.

"Erik? Erik! I need to speak to you now! Where are you? Erik!" she called as she wandered around his home, examining every detail for signs that he still lived there or for signs that he left and where he might have gone. Finally, the only room she hadn't searched was his bedroom, but she was hesitant to go in remembering how far Erik would go to protect his privacy. She didn't care to be on the wrong side of the Punjab lasso.

However, she noticed that his bedroom door was open a crack as if he was expecting her to come, to search. He had the uncanny ability to predict people's actions and reactions. If only he'd paid attention to Christine's, instead of being blinded by wanting her with him; the Opera would never have suffered the blow it did last season. That was in the past, though, and at the moment Madame Giry's only worry was to make sure history did not repeat itself.

She warily entered the bedroom, unsure of what she'd find. But not before calling out, "Erik, it's Antoinette, put your lasso away; I'm coming in.

The bedroom had not been used in months, of that she was certain. The bed was made up pristinely, it was just like him not to leave any visible imperfections anywhere. As she came closer, she noticed an ebony box on the bed with a note on the top. It was addressed to her. She picked up the envelope with a shaky hand and opened it.

It read:

Antoinette,

The Phantom is dead. He will not harm anyone else. If you recall, once I showed you a mask-one that has the look and feel of flesh. I have used this mask to fashion a new identity for myself. As you read this, I am living in the world above my self-imposed. If Christine taught me one thing, it was that you can't live in the past-it was the thought that I was her father that had led her to me. I have enclosed enough to make certain that both you and your daughter, Meg, shall not live in want of anything. You were right. It is high time for me to earn an honest living.

Your obedient friend,

Erik

_Where could he have gone? _she wondered as she pocketed the letter and headed to the ballet dormitories to practice the girls.

A/N: I believe the chapter speaks for itself! Time for the bricks to fall into place. If you'd like to see anything special, please tell me.

TNC,

Writer Muse


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